Perfection
by wandertogondor
Summary: Dean can handle cuts, but losing Sam was a wound that couldn't be healed with alcohol. This time Dean needed a band aid. And her name was Jo Harvelle. Co-written by the extraordinary sweetkiwi604. One-Shot. Complete.


Dean let out an exhausted sigh. The overrated bar scene was starting to take its toll on him. He hunched his shoulders over his drinks, staring into the sweet-smelling amber liquid. It was an intoxicating aroma that he wanted to drown himself in. He very delicately wrapped his fingers around the mouth of the glass, bring the brim up to his dried lips and savoring the taste as it washed down his body.

"Hey, grumpy," Jo slid her fingers over the bar and stood across from him, showing off the small dimples that came along with her playful eyes. "Still brooding, I see."

"Leave me alone, Jo."

She mocked a pout, leaning her elbows against the counter. "Nice makeup," she motioned with a flick of her wrist to the splatter of blood across his face. "Lemme guess. Wraith?"

Dean raised his glass, eyebrows arched, and took a swig in reply, "Mmmhmm."

His lack of verbal communication sent worried lines creasing across Jo's forehead. "Dean," she started slowly, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she tried to think of the right words to say. "My shift ends in ten minutes. Maybe you should stick around and I'll clean you up."

"I'm fine," he quickly dismissed her offer.

Jo set her lips into a straight line; her eyes boring into his. "That wasn't negotiable."

The hunter sat leaning over his empty glass, his gaze following Jo as she refilled drinks for the other patrons, some of whom would shamelessly eat her up with their beady eyes. It made his gut boil with anger, and Dean clenched his fist to control the rage that built on the loss of his brother. He shifted his eyes to his white knuckles before stretching his fingers out. His eyebrows came together when his fingers trembled uncontrollably.

"You ready to go?" Jo asked while rolling her apron into a ball and added, "Whoa, grumpy _and _jumpy."

Dean looked up at her in surprise before hiding his hand in his jacket pocket. "Yeah,"

The petite blonde led him up a flight of stairs nearly hidden behind a large curtain at the dark end of the bar. Her right hand lightly grazed against the wooden railing that climbed up the side of the wall. They stopped at a door at the top of the stairs while Jo fished through her pockets in search of the key.

"You don't have to do this for me, Jo," he muttered begrudgingly.

She looked over her shoulder while jiggling the key in the lock. "I want to. So, smile. It looks good on you."

In response, Dean shot her a quick, half-hearted little smile before resuming his blank, expressionless face. She bit the corners of her lips before pushing the door in and switching on the lights which illuminated the small apartment.

"Just sit on the couch," she instructed as she hurried to the kitchen to grab a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth.

Jo had gotten used to Dean's sarcastic comments and leering eyes on the few occasions they had been in each other's company. What she wasn't used to was the deafening silence or how he sat on her couch seemingly staring off into space. There was a small bowl of warm water on the coffee table that she kept dipping a washcloth in as she wiped the dried blood from his face, their knees touching.

When there still wasn't any response from the skilled hunter Jo carefully got off the couch and swung leg over his lap so that she was straddling him. She had meant to get a rise out of him, maybe ignite some witty banter, but instead he kept perfectly still.

"C'mon, Dean-o," she smiled a little as she tried again to catch his line of sight.

Dean wondered how someone so innocent, playful, and evidently carefree would ever be interested in someone so broken and damaged. He had always graciously turned down her advances in the past but there was a need rumbling deep within him to just forget for awhile. Forget the pain in his chest, forget the guilt that never ended, and solely focus on something that would make him feel good even if it was just for a temporary fleeting moment.

There were those dimples again, the ones the appeared anytime a smile broke out across her face and in spite of himself Dean found his hands moving up to rest behind her butt almost making sure that she wouldn't be able to get up. Jo's hands rested against his toned chest and though she wanted nothing more than to search his piercing green eyes for some kind of answers she couldn't tear her own eyes off his parted lips.

Dean leaned in closer to her, starting to squirm a little, his breath achingly soft as it caressed her face. "I'm lost, Jo."

"You haven't lost me." She ran her thumb across his eyebrow then entwined her fingers through his hair, gently bringing him closer, so close that she could feel his warm breath ghost over her lips.

There was a slight hesitation on both ends, never having taken it this far in the past, but Dean made the final decision as he claimed her lips with his own in a gentle, ever soft kiss that was over as quick as it started. Nonetheless, Jo was left breathless and a need for more. He could have chosen any bar to drown his sorrows in but he had showed up where she was, maybe subconsciously searching for the comfort he didn't want to allow himself.

When Jo lifted her gaze from his lips to his eyes she saw the raw emotion he usually kept under lock and key. He had come for a reason and she was going to help him anyway she could. With her hands clasped at the base of his neck she held him in place as she leaned in and kissed him. It was supposed to be as gentle as the first but there was something about the way his strong arms were on either side of her and the way his lips felt on hers that made Jo hungrily suck on his bottom lip.

Dean's mind was blank as Jo kissed his lips and nibbled at the side of his neck. It wasn't until she rolled her hips against him that an involuntary groan escaped the back of his throat and he let his hands slid under her shirt. Jo shivered feeling his calloused fingers run up her spine taking her shirt with it until it was easily forgotten on the floor leaving her clad in a simple everyday black bra. She cursed herself for not wearing something more alluring but little did she know Dean thought it was absolutely perfect.

Dean would never heal from the pain of losing his brother, his best friend, but he had found a temporary band aid. And that band aid was 5'4 blonde.


End file.
